


Terminal Case

by Pony Girl (Jackjunkie)



Category: due South
Genre: Action/Adventure, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-14
Updated: 2012-10-14
Packaged: 2017-11-16 07:34:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/537047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jackjunkie/pseuds/Pony%20Girl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fraser and Ray resort to crime-solving to pass the time while stuck at an airport.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Terminal Case

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published in the zine The Last of a Breed #1

"Another hour?!" The announcement over the loudspeaker cheerily echoed Ray's dismayed exclamation. "We've been stuck here an hour already because you insisted on being so early. Now we gotta spend another hour here? I hate waiting, I hate airports, and I hate New York."

Remaining seated, Fraser placidly regarded his partner's nervous pacing. "Ray, all airlines recommend arriving at the airport an hour early as a standard precaution. It seems worth another hour's wait to ensure a safe return to Chicago. Surely you don't want trouble while we're airborne."

"They said it was a cosmetic problem!" Ray flung his arms wide in exasperation. "How much trouble could that cause? Let them get their Revlon mechanic to sling a coat of make-up on it and let's take off!" He resumed his prowling.

As in any terminal, seats made of plastic and metal were fastened together in rows and occupied by passengers and baggage of varying shapes and sizes. Ray scowled his way up one aisle and down the next, deftly avoiding any feet, bags, and small children in his path.

"I'm sure they're doing all they can," Fraser soothed, swiveling his head to follow his partner's steps. "You know, you might feel calmer if you stopped all that pacing and sat down to rest awhile."

"You rest, I'll pace. In fact, I'll pace over to the desk and see if I can't get some answers." Ray stalked over to confront the airline staff.

"Your friend seems quite anxious. Is he nervous about flying?"

Turning to his right, Fraser observed the woman seated next to him. Her wrinkled features and softly waved white hair proclaimed her advanced age. A large handbag was slung over her arm, and in her lap she held a yellow kite, sunny bright against her plain black dress. Her faded blue eyes held a look of friendly concern.

"Oh no, ma'am," the mountie replied politely, "I believe he's just eager to get home. Patience is one virtue my friend needs to cultivate a bit more."

"I'm a little eager to get home myself," the woman confessed. "I miss my grandson."

"I believe I can understand your feelings. I miss my wolf."

The woman blinked and puckered her brow, as though she were unsure she had heard correctly. Before she had time to frame a question, Fraser indicated the kite. "Is this for him? It's a splendid present."

"Oh, do you think so?" the grandmother asked. "Children nowadays seem more interested in these new video games, but I just couldn't resist buying this. I always loved kites myself."

"As did I," Fraser smiled. "I think you made a good choice."

"I hope you're right." The grandmother looked at him hopefully. "Might I ask a favor? You seem very kind. I need to pay a visit to the ladies' room and it would be a little awkward carrying the kite in there, but I hate to just lay it down somewhere..."

"Allow me to look after it for you," Fraser offered unhesitatingly.

"Oh thank you. I won't be a moment." Handing him the kite, she made her way out of the gate area and down the corridor.

"What's that?"

"What? Oh." Fraser looked up to see his partner had returned and was standing over him, eying the kite in distaste. "I'm holding it for the lady who was sitting here. She needed to use the rest room."

"Fraser, this is an airport. Don't you listen to the warnings? You're not supposed to accept packages from strangers. It's a 'standard precaution.'"

"It's a kite, Ray," was the patient response. "She was a sweet old lady who didn't want to lose her grandson's present. I'm not taking it onto the plane, just watching it for a moment. She'll be right back."

"Benny, you gotta stop letting people walk all over you."

"That's not it at all, Ray. I'm just helping out a fellow passenger."

"You're always helping." Ray settled into the empty seat on Fraser's left. "How can they tell, that's what I want to know. It can't be the uniform, because even when you're out of uniform like now, it still happens. They just know somehow that they can take advantage of you."

"I don't see it that way," the mountie objected. "I want to help people. It's not a problem."

"Right now it's not a problem. One o' these days it's gonna be a problem, you'll see."

"Ah. Well, I'll be sure to give that some thought, Ray. What did you find out about the flight?"

"Flight? Oh. It's gonna be an hour late. A minor cosmetic problem. Nothing to worry about."

Fraser looked consideringly at his partner. "I'm glad you cleared that up." Deciding to change the subject, he glanced at the object in his hands. "Kites are such fascinating devices, don't you think?"

"What's so fascinating about a toy?"

"Oh, they're much more than just toys, Ray."

"Of course they are. I'm sorry I asked."

"Did you know that the Chinese military used kites 3,000 years ago? They attached bamboo pipes to them and flew them over the enemy troops. When the soldiers heard the strange whistling sounds they made, they panicked and fled."

"I know the feeling."

"A kite even played a small part in U.S.-Canadian relations once. During the building of the first suspension bridge over the Niagara River about 150 years ago, a kite was used to pull a cable across the river."

"Uh huh, well, this kite's beginning to strain this U.S.-Canadian relationship. Can we can the history lesson?"

"If you like, Ray. I merely..."

"Can I play with your kite, mister?" a plaintive voice wheedled.

The men turned to see a young boy standing in front of them, a finger poised to touch the tempting toy.

Fraser drew it back out of reach. "I'm sorry, son, but it's not mine."

"Bobby, come back here and leave those men alone!"

With one last regretful look over his shoulder, the boy ran back to his mother.

"Speaking of the kite's owner, where is that lady anyhow? Shouldn't she be back by now?" Ray looked around fruitlessly.

"It has been rather a long time," Fraser mused. "Even taking her age into account, it shouldn't..."

His partner interrupted him, jumping up from his chair. "Come on."

"Ray, you can't just barge into the ladies' room."

"Just watch me." He strode away up the corridor, leaving Fraser little choice but to follow with the kite.

"Police! Coming through!" Ray banged on the door and swung it open. Apparently encountering no resistance, he forged ahead.

Fraser arrived in time to see him exit precipitately, arms lifted overhead to ward off the blows from an overstuffed purse wielded by a middle-aged matron.

"Get out of here, you pervert," she bellowed, "before I call the management!"

"All right, lady, lay off, willya?" Ray beseeched. "I'm going already."

She retreated with a huff back into the ladies' room, leaving her battered victim to attempt to regain some semblance of dignity.

Fraser gave his partner a moment to collect himself before speaking. "That wasn't her, Ray."

"That's a relief. I wouldn't wish a grandmother like that on my worst enemy. She was the only one in there, though, so that means your lady friend has taken a powder."

"Perhaps she went to get a snack or make a phone call."

"You really think so?"

"No."

"Uh huh. Whaddya say we look around a little first before we go report this to the airport authorities? She mighta just got lost on the way back to the gate."

"She didn't appear to be senile, Ray."

"That's the worst kind, Fraser."

"Worst kind of what, Ray?"

"The kind that seems normal. Then when you least expect it, pow!"

"Pow?"

"Pow."

"I see." Fraser's steps slowed as they approached a gate that was relatively deserted. Reaching a hand to stop his partner, he nodded in the direction of a small group seated in a corner, a man to each side of an elderly woman. As they watched, the woman attempted to rise and was pulled roughly back down by one of the men.

Fraser's lips set into a grim line. Exchanging a look with Ray, he silently moved up beside one of the men, while his partner took up a position beside the other.

"I suggest you let the lady go," he said in an unmistakably determined tone.

"What?" Startled, the man, who was still holding the woman's arm, looked up to see the mountie looming over him.

"You heard him, pal. Let her go," Ray added from his menacing stance over the second man.

Taken at a disadvantage, both men sat motionless for an instant. Then the one near Ray sprang straight forward into the detective, tackling him to the floor. Flailing and rolling, they crashed into a bank of chairs.

The first man continued to hang onto the woman with one hand while attempting to fend off Fraser with the other. Hampered by the kite, the mountie put it down on a nearby chair and turned back to his opponent. Grabbing him by his jacket lapels, he jerked him to his feet. "You need to learn some manners," he instructed. "Didn't your mother teach you to behave like a gentleman and respect your elders?"

Freed from his grip, the lady ducked past the combatants and started towards the kite.

Dodging a punch, Ray hooked a leg around one of his attacker's and flipped him over onto his back. Sitting up and holding the man pinned down, he announced, "You're under arrest."

"What? No, you're the ones should be arrested," the man gasped.

Ray stood up and yanked his prisoner up by the collar. "Detective Vecchio, Chicago P.D.," he identified himself.

"Ed Crandall, security for Anderson Insurance," came the answering I.D. "This is my partner, Max Stein."

"You guys are cops?" Stein asked.

"Yes. I'm Royal Canadian Mounted Police, actually," Fraser admitted, releasing his hold on the man.

"A mountie? You're a mountie?" The woman stood flabbergasted.

"Yes, ma'am," the Canadian replied.

"Of all the people in the airport, I had to pick a mountie," she seemingly addressed the kite she had picked up.

"I take it you're not robbing this woman?" Fraser directed to the insurance men.

"Robbing...? She robbed us! Or at least, our client," Stein amended.

"Oh dear." Fraser looked a trifle stunned.

"Why didn't you say so?" asked Ray in an aggrieved tone.

"How'd we know you were cops?" Crandall demanded. "Can I have my coat back now?"

Ray reluctantly let go of the man's collar. "What'd I tell you, Fraser? This is what I call a problem."

"Understood, Ray. Why don't we go sit down and sort this out?" Fraser suggested amicably.

"Mind if we detain our suspect?" Stein headed off the woman, who was trying to slip away unnoticed. She glared at them all, but didn't put up any resistance.

Over coffee, they listened to the security guards' story. It seemed their company had insured a valuable necklace that was loaned by a prominent jeweler to the famous country singer Tanya Shain to wear to the Pan American Music Awards held at Radio City the previous evening. At the post-awards party, Miss Shain, bothered by her hair getting caught in the clasp, had taken off the necklace and put it in her purse, which had then disappeared from the counter in the ladies' lounge where she had lain it down while touching up her hair and make-up. After interviewing witnesses, the guards had pieced together a description of the suspect seen leaving just before the theft was discovered. They traced her to the airport today, where they were attempting to question her when interrupted by Fraser and Ray.

The woman refused to reveal her identity or answer any questions. Discarding her benign grandmotherly manner, she threatened to sue them all for false arrest, police brutality, illegal search and seizure, and anything else she or her lawyer could think of.

"Oh yeah, Fraser, this one's got it all over the dame who beat me with her purse in the grandmother department."

Crandall and Stein had in fact searched the woman's handbag without finding anything. It was their opinion that she had either stashed it somewhere or packed it in the suitcase she'd checked onto the plane to Chicago. Since they had heard the final boarding call for the flight ten minutes ago, it was too late to have her luggage taken off the plane.

"I'll call Chicago and have her suitcase picked up," Ray offered. "Then I think we should turn her over to N.Y.P.D. They can handle the search at this end."

After Ray made his call, they all piled into Crandall's car to drive to the police station. As they rode, Fraser thoughtfully gazed at the kite the woman still held carefully in her lap. He suddenly asked, "How do you feel about kite flying, Ray?"

The detective turned to cast a bewildered look over the front seat to his partner in the back. "Kite flying? What do you mean how do I feel about it? I guess it was fun when I was a kid."

"Well, you know what they say about keeping your inner child, Ray. Why don't we try it now?"

"Now? Benny, what are you up to? Look, the necklace is not hidden in the kite. We already figured that out. It's too flat and light."

"I know, Ray, but a kite is meant to fly, and I feel that we ought to fly it."

"It's my kite and you have no right to take it off to fly or do anything else with it," the woman protested.

"You don't want us to fly it? That's good enough for me," Ray about faced. "Okay, Benny, let's go fly a kite."

They stopped at a park along the way and Fraser and Ray got out of the car. Crandall and Stein remained behind with the prisoner, who continued to loudly voice her opposition.

"Here, Ray, you hold the kite while I unwind the string. You can act as launcher."

"Fraser, I'm going along with this, but I'm gonna launch you if you don't start making some sense. In spite of the lady's objections, I don't see how flying this thing is gonna help."

"You know, Ray, in World War II life rafts carried kites equipped with radio antennas to send out SOS signals."

"More history. What's that got to do with now?"

"I'm not sure, Ray. Maybe I'm hoping this kite will give me some kind of signal. Call it a hunch."

"A hunch. Sure. Why not."

"Turn around this way, Ray. We've got to face the wind at the proper angle of attack in order to get the correct air pressure to cause lift."

"Angle, pressure, lift...when I let it go, just pull on it. Ten to one, if it doesn't go down, it'll go up."

"I'm sure you're right, Ray. That's it - now, let it go."

"Run, Benny, run. Look at it fly!"

The kite soared into the air, bobbing and weaving for a few unsteady moments, then catching the air currents, it rose, higher and higher as Fraser let out the line. Ray ran to catch up to him and playfully pummelled his shoulder.

"Hey, great, Fraser. You've really got it going now." He grinned as he watched it climb upward.

"Thank you, Ray. You see, the lift, the drag caused by the air resistance, the amount of tension we hold on the line, combined with the force of gravity, all work together to keep the kite in the air."

"Gee, and here I thought you only had experience with flying otters."

"Cheap shot, Ray."

"Yeah, sorry. Whoa, watch out for those trees. There, you're clear."

"This kite's very responsive. Actually, this style, called a delta kite, is one of the easiest types to fly. There's a 400-year-old festival in Hamamatsu, Japan where they fly some amazing kites that are taller than you or me. I'd like to see how they get those to fly."

"Taller than you or me, huh? So's a plane, Fraser."

"Point taken, Ray."

"Fraser, don't you think you'd better stop? You're gonna run out of line."

"Yes, I see. Here, hang onto it, Ray, while I finish unwinding it. I think we may have something."

Ray grabbed the line above the winder while Fraser uncoiled the last of it. As he did, a small pouch was revealed wrapped around the stick under the string. He opened the pouch and emptied its contents into his hand, then held it up for Ray to see. A strand of jewels glittered in the sunlight. They'd found the missing necklace.

"Fraser, the next time you tell me to go fly a kite, I'm not gonna argue."

*****

They spent a large part of the afternoon at the police station. The thief was taken off to be booked, the security guards went to report the success to their company, but there was still paperwork to be filled out. It looked like their trip back to Chicago would be delayed till the next day.

"I guess we can find something to do in New York as long as we're stuck here," sighed Ray.

"Indeed, Ray, there are several museums I haven't yet had the opportunity to visit."

"That's nice, Benny, but I had something a little different in mind."

"Maybe I can suggest some entertainment," interjected a melodious feminine voice.

"Tanya Shain? It's Tanya Shain, the singer!" Ray elbowed Fraser to call his attention to the astounding revelation. This was one hot lady.

"Guilty as charged - and you must be the gentlemen who found the necklace I so carelessly mislaid."

"Ray Vecchio, Chicago P.D." He held out his hand.

She took it briefly, then turned to his partner inquiringly.

Fraser jumped to his feet. "Constable Benton Fraser, R.C.M.P.," he introduced himself.

Miss Shain took his hand, lingering over it longer than she had over the detective's. "They told me a mountie was responsible for the recovery. As a fellow Canadian, I just had to thank you in person. I was in some pretty hot water with my record company over losing that necklace. I hope I can find some way to repay you for coming to my rescue." She gazed meltingly into his clear blue eyes.

"You're very welcome, ma'am. Just doing my duty."

Hazel eyes rolled skyward. It was apparent to Ray that Fraser had made yet another conquest, and was again failing to appreciate it.

"I heard you're going to be in New York until tomorrow. I'd love for you to be my guest for the evening. And your friend, too, of course," she graciously indicated Ray.

"That's very kind of you, ma'am, but really not necessary..."

"It would be rude to turn the lady down, Fraser," Ray intervened hastily. How many chances did they get to hobnob with celebrities, even if this one did have eyes for his partner? Maybe she had a friend.

"Oh, naturally I wouldn't dream of being impolite. We'd love to accept your invitation. Thank you kindly."

"My pleasure. I'll have my limo pick you up here at about 7:00, if that's convenient?" She placed a persuasive hand on the mountie's arm.

"Fine, perfect, see you then," Ray agreed hurriedly before Fraser could mess things up.

"I'll be looking forward to this evening," she promised, then turned to go.

They watched her walk out of the station. "Benny," said Ray, clapping his friend on the back, "I love New York."

THE END


End file.
